


the burden on your shoulders

by ebonynightwriter



Series: Shallura Week 2018 [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Canon Universe, Friendship, Gen, Grief, Hurt / Comfort, One-Shot, Past Relationship(s), Post-Season/Series 07, Shallura Week 2018, soft talks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 17:18:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16045016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebonynightwriter/pseuds/ebonynightwriter
Summary: While picking up at the Garrison, Allura comes across something. //“Who was he?”





	the burden on your shoulders

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** An idea I had shortly after S7 aired. The dialog in this was tricky to pin down. Hope I did the end conversation well.
> 
> -.-
> 
>  **[shallura week (2018) // day 5](http://ebonynightwriter.tumblr.com/tagged/mine:%20shallura%20week%202018)** · protect / partner
> 
> -.-

As life returns to normal across Earth, so too does the Garrison.

Rebels depart in search of lost loved-ones, bringing the population of the base back to a regular capacity. As the numbers lessen, so does their need for extra bedding and rooms, which leads to a lot of misplaced furniture and need for items stored-away before the siege. After putting a group of teams together, all that was left to do was to put everything in their proper places.

Lucky for the Garrison, Alteans had super strength.

_“Whoa!”_

Veronica stands, staring dumbfounded as Allura squeezes into the room, a couch loaded with boxes carried effortlessly in her hands.

“Uhh, right!” she says, snapping her mind out of its stupor. “You can put that down right over here!”

Allura follows the instructions, setting the couch down a few feet from the wall. It goes down with a _thump_ , the boxes stacked along its length wobbling atop the cushions before settling against its back.

“Is there anything left?” Allura asks, brushing off her hands. Veronica takes a clipboard laying on one of the boxes. Looking at it carefully, she does a quick check of the room, comparing the items to the list.

After a moment, she lets out a sigh.

“It looks like there’s a chair missing,” she says, lowering the board. “Those guys in the northern sector better not have swiped it...”

“Should we check back at the recovery hangers?” Allura asks.

“No, I’ll go see where it is,” Veronica replies, tossing the clipboard aside. “You start pulling everything out of those boxes, we’ll sort through it once I’m back!”

Allura smiles, watching as Veronica rushes out the room. Once out of sight, she turns back to the boxes, hands resting on her hips. She goes to the closest one and opens it, pulling out a collection of books that lay inside.

Then, setting those on the counter nearby, she moves on to the rest.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

By the time Veronica returns with the chair, every flat surface of the room is filled.

“Wow!” Veronica says, gazing at the stack of items resting on the counter. “You sure work fast!”

Allura laughs. “Should I have been slower?”

Veronica shakes her head, setting the chair beside the counter.

“Nah, we’ll get through this soon enough!” she says, grabbing a book piled beside her. Turning over to the cover, she reads aloud: “ _Properties of Air Dynamics’_... my brother would not like this one.”

Allura smiles, closing up a box.

“What should we do with all these?” she asks, waving her hand over the collection of boxes. Veronica grabs another book, turning through a few of its pages.

“There should be a closet around the wall over there,” she says, pointing over a bend by the counter. “See if you can put them in there for now.”

As Veronica readies a step-stool along the shelves on the wall, Allura gathers the boxes, placing them inside one another.

“This used to be a lounge?” she asks, picking up the stack.

“Yeah,” Veronica replies, sliding the books into an empty shelf. “For the teacher’s here. Classes ended as soon as the Galra hit, so they haven’t had a lot of use.”

Allura sets the boxes in front of the closet.

“Were you an instructor?”

Veronica laughs.

“No, I transferred here a little after Lance disappeared,” she says. “Went into the communications department. I figured I could track him down somehow... or at least be close to people who could.”

Allura smiles at the thought.

“He’s lucky to have a sister like you.”

Veronica grins.

“Right? That’s what I always tell him!” she says. “I did know some of the teachers, though, there were some around my age...”

Smile still on her face, Allura opens the door. A few long-hanging coats cover the space, so she pushes them aside to get to the floor, only to find a box was already there. It was smaller, probably fit for shoes of some kind... Taking it by the sides, Allura pulls it around, only to hear the crunch of glass cracking from the inside.

She winces, setting the box down carefully.

“Oops.”

Veronica looks over the counter.

“What was that?”

“I’m not sure,” Allura sighs, lifting the lid. “I found a box inside here. There must be something fragile inside—”

She stops the moment it’s off.

Inside the box was a certificate, a model craft, a trophy, and a photo. The last item catches her eye, not only because of the glass cracked around its frame, but also because of the people etched within it. It was Shiro, young and happy — smiling with pride. And beside him, another man...

“Oh,” Veronica says, peering over her shoulder. “That’s...”

Her words trail off as Allura takes it from the box.

“Do you know who is this?” Allura asks, pointing to the man. Veronica looks away from the picture, arms crossed over her chest.

 

.

 

.

 

.

 

She brings it to his office.

“Hey,” he says, standing from his chair. “What are you doing here?”

“Veronica and I were helping to sort out the rooms,” she says. “We found this in a closet. She said... she said it belonged to you.”

She sets it on the desk in front of him. With a puzzled look, he sits back and lifts the lid. A smile spreads on his face, taking the model craft from within.

“I remember this,” he says, holding it up toward the light. “This is a replica of first craft I ever flew to space.”

He sets it up on the desk, careful to keep its stand upright.

“This was for the annual flight drill competition,” he says, picking up the trophy. “I made the top score my first year.”

He puts it down.

“And this,” he says, taking the certificate. “Was—”

He stops, gazing to the rest of the box. Allura stays silent, hand hanging off her sleeve.

“Veronica had a similar reaction.”

He picks up the photo.

“Who was he?” she asks.

His grip on the frame tightens, shifting the cracked glass.

“His name was Adam,” he says. “He was my flight partner.”

Setting down the photo, he pushes his back heavily against the chair, as if his body was made of rocks.

“And a good one at that,” he says with a smile, gaze locked on the frame. “He was always there beside me, even when I was shooting for the stars.”

His eyes travel down as he leans forward, hand pushing through his hair.

“He died the day Sendak invaded,” he says. “I loved him, and now he’s—”

His breath shakes. Allura looks to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Sendak came to Earth because of me,” he says. “It’s my fault he’s dead.”

She looks at him.

“You don't know that.”

“Yes, I do,” he replies, palm pressed against his head. “Back when the Castle of Lions was taken, Sendak told me he would go to Earth. To see if the rest of humanity has the same _spirit_ that I had.”

He lowers the arm, resting it on his leg.

“And now Adam’s gone because of it,” he says. “I couldn’t protect him.”

She closes her eyes.

“In that case...” she says. “You proved him right.”

He stares ahead. Allura rounds the table, until she’s right at his side. She kneels by the chair, fingers hanging from the armrest.

“When Sendak invaded, your people had a chance to give in — but they didn’t,” she says. “I didn’t know Adam, but if he was anything like you, then I know he would be proud to have fought back. To give Earth a chance.”

He cracks a small smile.

“Guess I rubbed off on him,” he says. He leans forward, taking the picture in hand as Allura stands. Holding it firm, he stares at it, a trail of tears running down his face.

“I wish you could’ve met him.”

She puts a hand on his shoulder.


End file.
